


Getting Even

by AmberBrown



Series: Earning Their Keep [21]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-27 19:30:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15031670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberBrown/pseuds/AmberBrown
Summary: D’Artagnan gently shook Athos shoulder, being careful to keep as far away as possible, he knew Athos could be a little explosive if he was startled. Athos did not react.‘Athos?’Concern creeping into his thoughts d’Artagnan moved around the beds to Porthos and tried the same tactic with a little more force. Porthos remained fast asleep as well.‘What’s the matter?’ asked Aramis from across the room.‘They won’t wake up…’





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As promised this is the follow up to ‘The Old Flame’. If you have not read that all you need to know is that Aramis and d’Artagnan are in an established relationship. In ‘The Old Flame’ as the title suggests a previous lover of Aramis caused the pair some problems. They think he is dead, which is obviously not the case!

Athos and Porthos were a few yards ahead, guiding their horses towards the stable at the back of the tavern. Aramis glanced across at d’Artagnan who visibly shivered against the chilly wind, his cloak wrapped tightly around him. 

‘Do you remember that night when we were forced to camp outside...and it was cold...and you started talking in your sleep...and then you touched me…’

‘Shut up,’ hissed d’Artagnan.

Aramis chuckled as he watched his lover’s cheeks redden with embarrassment at being reminded of the incident. Poor conflicted d’Artagnan had found feelings woken in him that he had not known what to do with. But now the two men, who had been lovers for two years were perfectly at ease with each other. They were equals and Aramis would not have it any other way. 

D’Artagnan had composed himself a little as they reached the stable, he leaned across to Aramis and said quietly, ‘I seem to recall leaving you begging for it in a stable once…’

It was Aramis turn to look abashed.

‘What’s up with you?’ asked Porthos eyeing Aramis carefully, ‘you look a bit flushed, you’d better not be coming down with something, I don’t wanna be stuck here.’

Aramis glowered at d’Artagnan as he tried to work out what he would do to make the younger man pay when they were back in Paris. D’Artagnan smirked as he dismounted and led his horse to one of the stalls. 

They were all pleased to find the tavern, the thought of either pressing on through the night or camping on the cold January night had not been appealing. They had been searching for a group of robbers that had been plaguing an area south of Paris making the road unsafe for the Royal family. It had been a relatively easy job to neutralise the poor disenchanted men who were just trying to stay alive. Aramis did not like seeing the men arrested, they were desperate, but the desperation had cost them dearly. 

‘Monsieur,’ said a young man who had appeared at the stable doorway.

He was slight, about fifteen years old, with tousled dark blond hair. 

‘Do you have room for the four of us?’ asked Athos.

‘Yes monsieur, if you want to go in, I can see to your horses.’

‘I’ll give you a hand,’ suggested d’Artagnan, ‘you don’t want to be out in this weather any longer than is necessary.

Aramis hid a smile; d’Artagnan was always very considerate of others needs. He gathered both of their saddlebags and carried them towards the tavern following in Athos and Porthos’ wake.

‘I hope they have a fire going,’ remarked Porthos as he reached the door, pushing it open.

MMMM

The stable boy, who d’Artagnan quickly established was the son of the tavern keeper was called Paul. And Paul had a lot to talk about. D’Artagnan suspected the lad did not get much time to talk to other people. His parents probably kept him busy with chores.

‘Were you in a battle?’

‘Not just now, no, we were dealing with some robbers a few miles away.’

‘Did you get into a sword fight with them?’

‘A brief one, yes.’

‘Did you kill any of them?’

‘One of them died, he was shot.’

‘Were any of you injured?’

‘My friend, Aramis, was pushed into a tree, he’s got some bruising, but otherwise, no.’

Paul was instantly in awe of the Musketeers. He was competently dealing with their horses as they spoke, pulling off their saddles and rubbing them down. He directed d’Artagnan to some blankets that could be used to give them a little warmth overnight. But he knew the shelter in the stable would probably be enough, they were hardy beasts. 

‘I wish I could be a soldier.’

‘It’s a hard life, we don’t get paid well and it is, obviously, very dangerous...but what would stop you?’

‘My parents want me to take over the tavern in a few years.’

‘The world will always need tavern keepers.’

Paul smiled, ‘yeah, I suppose.’

They continued to work for a few minutes before the young man spoke again.

‘Have you ever been captured and tortured?’

D’Artagnan paused for a couple of seconds before resuming his work, he was not quick enough, Paul had noticed. 

‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘that’s probably not something you would want to talk about.’

D’Artagnan shook his head, ‘not particularly. And it would probably be best if you didn’t ask the others that either.’

D’Artagnan was thinking of Aramis when he spoke. HIs lover’s brief spell in the Chatelet may have been several months before but it would never be a subject he could be at ease with. Paul’s youthful curiosity was likely to upset his friends.

‘I won’t,’ replied Paul, ‘can I ask them about battles though...they’re all older than you, so must have been in some.’

‘Yes. Aramis, the one with the fancy feathers in his hat, he’s got some good battle stories, and Porthos, the one wearing the bandana, he’s got some as well. He used to be in the infantry.’

Paul’s eyes grew wider.

‘Although we are all a bit tired, so don’t wear us out.’

Paul laughed, ‘no monsieur, my mother stops me when I talk to the guests for too long.’

They had finished dealing with the horses and were walking around to the front of the tavern. Paul had his arms wrapped around himself against the cold, his thin doublet not protecting him from the breeze.

‘Is anyone else staying?’

‘Two men, one of them was ill so they both went to bed early. They’ve got the smaller room. You all get to share the big room. There are four beds...bet that’s better than being forced to share.’

D’Artagnan nodded his agreement, although he would not have minded sharing, particularly on a cold night. Lying next to Aramis, or Constance, entwined in the others embrace was always comforting.

MMMM

Porthos had warmed to the tavern keeper immediately, the man, Gabriel Bonnet, had welcomed them with a firm handshake. He called back to his wife to sort them all out with food. Bonnet was a little older than Porthos and several inches shorter. Although he looked capable of dealing with any nonsense he might get from a rowdy drinker. Porthos wondered how busy the tavern could get. They were not far from a village and the road was fairly busy.

‘It’s not too busy this time of year,’ said Bonnet when Porthos enquired, ‘people passing through mainly. A few of the men from the village come over but a lot of them can’t really afford to.’

Porthos was stood in front of the fire warming his hands as the tavern keeper counted the money he had just been given for their accommodation and food. 

‘I’ll warn you now, monsieur, my son, Paul, can get a bit curious, he’s rather obsessed with soldiers, if he becomes a nuisance just send him away.’

Porthos laughed, ‘I think we can relate a few anecdotes to him, we’ve only had each other for company these last few days, it will be good to talk to someone else.’

Athos and Aramis appeared in the doorway after taking their bags up to the room they would share.

‘You have a fine place, monsieur,’ said Athos, ‘certainly a welcome respite from the winter cold.’

‘Yes, the other guests were very pleased to find a room available.’

‘Other guests?’

‘Two gentlemen, travelling through. One of them was unwell. They’ve already retired for the night. Sarah took them up some food earlier. I doubt you will see them.’

Two women walked through from a back room carrying trays. Porthos sniffed approvingly as the food was carried past him to a table opposite the fire.

The older women started to lay the plates out on the table, pausing when Aramis went to help her.

‘You’re domesticated aren’t you,’ she said with a smile.

‘We are soldiers madam,’ replied Aramis, ‘unfortunately we cannot rely on beautiful women to look after us on the battlefield.’ 

Aramis grinned at her, earning himself a playful slap on the arm from the woman.

‘My husband will be jealous.’

Aramis looked across to Bonnet who chuckled, ‘it took me three years before she would even let me kiss her, you are welcome to try your luck.’

Porthos leaned into the man and said, ‘don’t tempt him, he likes a challenge.’

Aramis affected a shocked expression. The tavern keeper's wife shook her head before looking to the younger woman.

‘Sarah, go up and see if our other guests have finished their meals and collect the trays.’

The young woman nodded before disappearing up the stairs.

‘Once she’s back I will sort you out with some wine,’ said the tavern keeper’s wife as she left the room. 

Bonnet watched her go, ‘my wife, Marie, does like to mother all the guests, I’ll leave you to your meal.’

MMMM

Athos watched the young women cross the room with the wine and cups. She had been a few minutes with the other guests leading to the swordsman becoming a little impatient for his wine. She smiled as she placed the cups in front of each of them and poured the wine. She glanced at each man as she did so.

Paul had spent a few minutes talking to them before Sarah had arrived with the wine. Athos had been mildly amused when he skittered away as Sarah had walked passed him. He had looked longingly at her from across the room. 

‘Can I get you anything else?’ asked Sarah.

‘No, thank you,’ replied d’Artagnan.

She walked away. Athos took a swig of wine watching the young woman disappear with Paul following behind her. 

‘Do you think she knows she has an admirer?’ asked Porthos who had also noticed the young man looking at the serving woman.

‘Of course she knows,’ said Aramis, ‘and she probably uses it to her advantage.’

‘She’s a bit old for him, she must be at least six years older…’

‘Constance is a bit older than me,’ said d’Artagnan with slight annoyance.

Athos watched Aramis slowly turn to look at d’Artagnan, slightly tilting his head with an unasked question.

D’Artagnan did not seem to have noticed Aramis. Porthos leaned forward.

‘So you’re saying that a few years difference is alright?’ asked Porthos, barely able to contain himself. 

‘Yes, I mean there’s only three years between me and Constance. But a couple more is alright.’

Aramis glanced across to Porthos who finally smirked. 

‘What?’ asked d’Artagnan.

‘Would it not be appropriate if there were more years difference between them?’ asked Aramis.

D’Artagnan slowly looked at Aramis, unable to hide his embarrassment as he realised what he had inferred. Porthos laughed out loud before Athos thumped him.

‘Remember there is someone upstairs who is unwell,’ he said.

Porthos nodded, ‘sorry.’

D’Artagnan was trying to find something to say but could not. 

Athos shook his head, ‘I think our young friend forgot about you for a moment.’

‘I feel so underappreciated…’

D’Artagnan scowled at them both, ‘we have an early start tomorrow. Perhaps we should turn in?’

Athos nodded as drained his cup of wine, ‘he is right.’

Porthos led the way upstairs as Aramis took the remains of their meals through to Marie. 

‘Is he upset?’ asked d’Artagnan glancing back down the stairs.

‘Of course not, I think he found it amusing, you two are so good at being discreet that you don’t even ‘ave to try anymore.’

‘He is probably taking Monsieur Bonnet up on his offer of stealing a kiss from his wife.’

D’Artagnan smiled for the first time in a few minutes, ‘you’re probably right.’

MMMM

D’Artagnan opened his eyes and squinted. It took him a few moments to work out what the bright light was. He realised the light was coming from the sun, streaming through a gap in the curtains. 

He turned his head and looked across the room. The four beds were arranged two on each side of a small table. Athos and Porthos were on the other side of the room, both appeared to be asleep. Aramis, in the bed next to his, shifted slightly moving his arm which had been resting over d’Artagnan. The room was small, the beds were close enough together that it had not taken Aramis long to slide his arm across to d’Artagnan as he slept. 

D’Artagnan gently moved Aramis’ arm and slipped out of his bed. He listened for any noise from downstairs. The sun was high enough in the sky that it must have been at least mid-morning. He was surprised he could not hear any activity, but what surprised him more was that Athos had not woken them all at dawn. Their leader rarely slept heavily and was generally the one to rouse them if they had an early start. In truth, they were all fairly light sleepers, particularly when they were away from Paris. 

D’Artagnan gently shook Athos shoulder, being careful to keep as far away as possible, he knew Athos could be a little explosive if he was startled. Athos did not react.

‘Athos?’

Concern creeping into his thoughts d’Artagnan moved around the beds to Porthos and tried the same tactic with a little more force. Porthos remained fast asleep as well. 

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Aramis from across the room.

His lover had pushed himself up to sit and was rubbing his face with his hands. 

‘They won’t wake up…’

Aramis climbed off his bed and walked around to where d’Artagnan was stood, he shook each sleeping Musketeer in turn. 

‘I don’t think they’re asleep, I think they’re unconscious,’ said Aramis as he felt their skin, looking for signs of a fever.

‘What’s caused it?’

‘I have no idea, we were all together, we ate the same meal, and neither of them complained of feeling ill...you’re alright aren’t you?’

D’Artagnan nodded.

Aramis began to dress saying, ‘I’ll talk to Monsieur Bonnet, there should be a doctor in the village. Keep trying to rouse them.’

D’Artagnan nodded as Aramis hurried from the room. 

MMMM

Aramis did not like not knowing what was wrong with his friends, both men had been in the same state. He was convinced they were suffering from the same affliction, but what that was he had no idea. He quickly descended the stairs.

He walked through to the main room and noted that the fire was still smouldering from the previous night, he was surprised, given the cold temperature that no one had been to build it up again. Without his doublet on, Aramis was already feeling the chill in the air. 

The previous night he had taken the tray of plates and cups back to the homely kitchen area of the tavern and spent a few minutes talking to the family before joining his brothers. He had watched Paul gazing at Sarah, the poor lad was really quite smitten with the young woman. 

‘Hello,’ he called out, ‘Monsieur Bonnet?’

There was no sign of the family. He looked around the kitchen, he would have expected to have seen the women bustling about making bread or preparing meat and vegetables. The cooking fire had not been lit. 

A noise to his left made him turn, his eyes widening at the sight he took in.

The Bonnet family were sat on the floor in a small storeroom off the kitchen. They each had their hands tied behind their backs and were gagged. Paul sported the beginnings of a bruise to his cheek and Gabriel’s clothes were dishevelled. Both Marie and Sarah appeared unharmed, but both women looked terrified. 

As Aramis took a step towards them Gabriel started to try to talk through his gag he was staring at Aramis and then looking to his left, over Aramis’ shoulder. Aramis realised that someone was behind him. In his haste to get help for Athos and Porthos, he had left his weapons in their room. He spotted a kitchen knife a few inches from his right hand. He spun around grabbing the knife as he did so.

He raised the knife defensively but stopped himself staring at the man who was stood in front of him pointing a gun at him. He had been convinced the man threatening him was dead.


	2. Chapter 2

‘Hello,’ said the man with the gun.

‘You’re...you...how…’

Aramis was so shocked he forgot himself. The last time he had seen his former lover the man had been fighting with d’Artagnan on the banks of the river in Paris. The pair had been seconds from falling into the Seine. Aramis, who was struggling against a drug that Lestrange had given him had only just been able to pull d’Artagnan back from what he thought was a certain death. The cold water of the river should not have been survivable. 

A muffled shout from behind him was not enough to bring Aramis back to full alertness quick enough to prevent the blow to his back. He staggered to the side dropping the knife. A second blow saw him fall to the floor. He tried to push himself back up but was forced back down by whoever had knocked him down. The man straddled him pinning him down to the cold slabs of the kitchen floor. He could not prevent his arms being twisted up behind him and a rope looped around them.

Lestrange had crouched down next to him. The man was smiling cruelly.

‘What do you want from me?’

‘You’ll see,’ replied his former lover as he pulled a rag from his pocket and forced it into Aramis’ mouth securing it behind his head.

The man sitting on him was busy threading the rope around Aramis’ neck. Aramis was forced to raise his hands a little as he was given little slack on the rope. He would be in constant danger of strangling himself as long as the rope was looped around his neck. Aramis tried to squirm away as the man stood up, but was kicked in the side as he moved.

‘I wouldn’t try anything,’ said Lestrange, ‘I know how much you like to protect people.’

Lestrange nodded in the direction of the captive family. Aramis managed to turn his head and saw the other man leaning over Sarah. He had grabbed her by the hair to pull her head back. The knife Aramis had dropped was being pressed against her exposed throat. 

The man with Lestrange was a few years younger than him. He was very handsome, his face unmarked by any scars or blemishes. He was almost feminine in appearance. Aramis realised the younger man was Lestrange’s new lover. 

‘Let’s get the other one and get on with it,’ said the man.

‘In a moment Philippe,’ said Lestrange, ‘let me just explain the terms to Aramis first, I’m sure we would prefer him to be cooperative.’

Philippe nodded as he released Sarah and walked back. Between them, they pulled Aramis up to stand. The short rope between his wrists and his neck forced him to stand straight with his wrists held up, he knew he would quickly tire if he was left restrained for very long. He suspected that was what Lestrange and Philippe wanted. 

Aramis glanced at the scared looking family sat huddled on the floor behind him. Sarah had twisted slightly to bury her face into Marie's shoulder, the older woman was trying to comfort her despite the fear that was evident in her eyes. 

‘I think it is fairly obvious we are prepared to hurt these people,’ began Lestrange, ‘if you try to escape, or alert d’Artagnan to our presence Philippe will slit the throat of one of them.’

Sarah whimpered. Aramis looked back at Lestrange. He was still shocked at the turn of events. Lestrange should have been dead. No one could have survived in the river. D’Artagnan and he had not even considered looking for the manipulative man.

‘If you cause us too many problems once we have finished off those four we will kill your sleeping friends as well...yes, Aramis, that was my doing. Poor naive Sarah thought nothing of helping us to drug their cups. The money we promised her would have set her up well.’

Aramis looked back at Sarah who continued to sob into Marie's shoulder.

‘They will be fine, the drug will wear off in a few hours. All I want is you and d’Artagnan. You both need to pay for leaving me to die.’

Aramis tried to talk through his gag. Philippe stepped forward and punched him in the face, causing him to stagger to the side. Lestrange grabbed him before he could fall, straightening him up.

‘I suppose you think I’m incapable of what I have said?’

Aramis did not respond.

‘Would you like a demonstration?’ Lestrange glanced towards the Bonnet family.

Aramis shook his head.

‘You will behave yourself then?’

Aramis nodded.

He suspected Lestrange wanted to hurt him and d’Artagnan. He was prepared to fight back, but could not risk it whilst the Bonnet family and his unconscious friends were in danger. All Aramis could hope was that Lestrange and Philippe would take d’Artagnan and himself away from the tavern.

Without warning, Philippe who was surprisingly strong for his slight stature punched Aramis again this time hitting him in the stomach. Aramis doubled over, but had limited movement due to the rope around his neck. He panted through the gag, but he managed to glare at the man who merely sneered back at him, his handsome face contorted by the move. 

‘Are you also wondering how we found you?’

Aramis managed to look back at Lestrange.

‘We’ve been biding our time. Watching the four of you. When the weather took a turn for the worse and you started heading home, we got ahead of you and took a chance that you would stop here. We took a room, I pretended to be ill so no one would expect to see us and then we just waited for you to arrive.’

Aramis stared at his former lover. He still could not believe the change in the man. Lestrange had always been a man to take risks but what he was doing now was not only risky but quite abhorrent. 

Aramis had loved the man, had been taken in by his charm. One of the very few people to have fooled him. It annoyed Aramis that he had allowed the man to manipulate him and use him. D’Artagnan had seen it straight away, but Aramis had blindly ignored him, they had both nearly regretted that decision. 

He was pulled forward by the arm, Philippe guiding him back towards the stairs. Aramis managed to glance back at the family behind him. He hoped they would be left alone, they had done nothing wrong, they did not deserve the treatment they were receiving because of him. 

Aramis could not see how he was going to get out of the situation he had found himself.

MMMM

After Aramis had left in search of help for their friends d’Artagnan had quickly dressed. As he pulled on his doublet he had returned to Athos side and tried shaking him awake again. There was still no response. Their complete lack of reaction was unnerving. Athos was a quiet man generally but d’Artagnan did not like to see him so still. Porthos was rarely still, rather like Aramis he craved activity and action. The two men had not moved, d’Artagnan decided that Aramis’ assessment was correct, they were unconscious, not asleep. 

A knock at the door drew his attention. It could not have been Aramis, who would have just entered the room. D’Artagnan guessed it was either Bonnet or his wife. Without thinking d’Artagnan opened the door.

The gun pointing at his chest made him stop. Lestrange smiled at him.

‘Hello,’ he said.

A slight movement behind Lestrange caused d’Artagnan to glance away. He took an involuntary step forward when he saw Aramis, pinned against the opposite wall, bound and gagged with obvious bruises across his face. Aramis was breathing hard through the gag, the way they had bound his arms, with the rope looped around his neck, had left him struggling to breathe properly. 

D’Artagnan looked back at Lestrange, he could not comprehend how the man could be stood in front of him. Lestrange was dead, d’Artagnan had heard the splash as he hit the river a few weeks before. No one could have survived the cold water. And yet here he was with another man who was pushing his lover into the wall. 

Aramis had clearly been beaten, the bruising across his face was obvious, his shirt was not fully tucked into his breeches and was dirty. The rope around his neck had already left its mark. The man holding Aramis had a knife in his hand which was being pushed into his neck, a trickle of blood disappearing under the rough rope. 

‘Philippe, is very annoyed with you two for leaving me to die,’ said Lestrange.

‘How could we have known you would have survived that…’

‘Did either of you bother to check?’

D’Artagnan stared at Lestrange, ‘you’d drugged Aramis, you were attacking him...do you really think either of actually cared about you at that moment?’

Aramis made a muffled noise through his gag, Philippe had sliced the knife across his throat again, a very shallow cut, not much more than a scratch, but the threat of what the man wanted to do was there. 

Lestrange glanced back before returning his attention to d’Artagnan. Lestrange had a slightly annoyed look on his face. D’Artagnan wondered if their plan had not included hurting Aramis yet. Perhaps Philippe had just overstepped the mark. D’Artagnan wondered if he could use that to his advantage. 

Lestrange looked into the room behind d’Artagnan. 

‘I see your friends are not going to be joining you,’ he said with a smirk.

‘Did you do that to them?’ said d’Artagnan, unable to keep the anger from his voice.

‘Yes, with a little help from the silly serving girl...oh don’t worry, they will be fine, they’ll wake up in an hour or so having had a good sleep.’

‘What do you want from us?’

‘To make you pay.’

‘And how are you going to achieve that? If you were just going to kill us you would have done by now,’ retorted d’Artagnan.

Lestrange tilted his head slightly and smiled, ‘why don’t you come with us and you will see. I doubt I need to tell you to behave or I will allow Philippe to do what he wants to your lover?’

Aramis tried to speak again but was shoved by Philippe before being pulled back and forced to walk ahead of the younger man who kept a tight hold of the rope restraining him.

D’Artagnan could not work out how to get himself and his lover out of their current predicament without one or both of them being injured. And he was still concerned about Athos and Porthos.

Lestrange took a step back and indicated with his gun that d’Artagnan move. With his hands out in surrender, d’Artagnan stepped out of their room and followed Aramis and Philippe down the stairs. 

Philippe pushed Aramis into the wall at the bottom of the stairs. D’Artagnan tried to make eye contact with his lover but Aramis was staring at Lestrange. Aramis looked angry, d’Artagnan was not surprised, he knew his lover would be blaming himself for all that was happening. 

With the knife pressed to the back of Aramis’ neck, Philippe reached towards the door to open it. D’Artagnan noticed Aramis tense up, he could tell his lover was about to try to escape. Lestrange noticed as well and pushed his gun firmly into Aramis’ back.

‘Try it,’ he said, ‘I will have no problem killing you and then killing your friends and that unfortunate family back there. Is that what you want?’

Aramis managed to shake his head slightly closing his eyes, defeated. Lestrange went back to pointing his gun at d’Artagnan who managed to make eye contact with Aramis and subtly shook his head. They had no choice but to go along with their captors, at least for now.

MMMM

Aramis had known it was stupid to try anything, but he could not help himself. He felt so helpless. He was bound and gagged and his lover was being forced along through threat of violence to himself. Lestrange and Philippe were not soldiers, under normal circumstance they would have been no match for either d’Artagnan or himself.

But Lestrange, as Aramis knew, was wily, he had used the element of surprise and worry to successfully capture him. Then d’Artagnan had been taken under similar circumstances. 

As he was pushed out of the tavern he tripped over the step and crashed to the ground. He was aware of d’Artagnan being told to stop. Aramis guessed his lover’s natural reaction had been to step forward to help him up. Instead, he found himself being pulled roughly to his feet by Philippe who seemed to take great delight in tugging on the restrictive rope around his neck. Aramis glared at the man who chuckled.

As he was again pushed forward he glanced back and saw d’Artagnan being forced to follow with Lestrange at the back of the party his gun still trained on d’Artagnan’s back. 

Lestrange looked a little unsure of himself. He had looked determined earlier, but now seemed to be worried about something. Aramis wondered what had happened to change the man’s demeanour. 

Aramis knew d’Artagnan could run, he was quick and could evade the two men who had them. But Aramis also knew his lover would not abandon him; at that moment Aramis hated the fact that d’Artagnan would not leave him. He knew d’Artagnan would be looking for any opportunity to deal with the situation, Aramis just had to hope the method he used did not get either of them hurt or killed. 

Philippe had kept hold of his arm as they walked, his grip firm, bruisingly so, the man was talking quietly to him, quiet enough that neither d’Artagnan or Lestrange would be able to hear. 

‘I pulled him from the river, you know,’ he said, ‘he could barely move, he was close to death...you left him to die, and you don’t think we deserve to have our revenge?’

Aramis tried to pull away but could not escape the man.

‘We are going to make sure you know what it was like for him, to be left, cold, afraid, alone.’

Aramis had no idea what they intended to do to them, but it was not going to be pleasant. 

Philippe continued to ramble on about how he and d’Artagnan should have checked on Lestrange. Aramis wondered if Philippe knew the full details of the incident, if he knew that Lestrange had been assaulting him, when he was pulled away by d’Artagnan. Lestrange had probably not told his new lover how he had been attempting to seduce his old lover just before his fight with d’Artagnan. Philippe probably had not been told that Lestrange had been drugging Aramis for several days in order to get him compliant and easy to manipulate.

As they walked further away from the tavern Aramis became more aware of the temperature. At first, he had been more concerned with thinking of ways to escape but as they had continued he had started to shiver. He was not wearing his doublet and he was cold, he knew the low temperature would have a detrimental effect on him. 

Aramis continued to wish that d’Artagnan would take the opportunity to escape. The younger man was not restrained except by his worry. Aramis loved him for it, but wished the man would accept that it would be for the best if at least one of them survived.


	3. Chapter 3

Athos opened his eyes, he blinked a few times. He stared at the window, the sun was high in the sky. His mind foggy, it took him a few seconds to realise that it should not be that late in the day. He usually woke early, before dawn. He had not drunk much the night before, he could not work out why he had overslept. It was also odd, he thought, that his brothers had not woken him. 

He looked to his right, Porthos way lying on the bed next to him, still sleeping. Two empty beds were on his left. He swung his legs off the bed and sat up. The fogginess in his mind was fading. Aramis and d’Artagnan were not in the room. 

‘Why did you let me sleep on?’ asked Porthos from behind him.

‘I did not,’ replied Athos.

Porthos pushed himself up to sit before rubbing his eyes for a few seconds.

‘Where are the others?’

‘I’m not sure, but they cannot have gone far. Their weapons are still here and Aramis’ doublet.’

‘Odd,’ said Porthos. 

They rarely went far from their weapons, particularly when they were on unfamiliar ground. And it would be foolhardy for Aramis to go too far without his jacket in the current weather.

They both dressed and armed themselves, despite there probably being a simple explanation for the events neither man wanted to take a chance.

With guns drawn they made their way downstairs cautiously. Porthos had remarked that it was oddly quiet in the house. They would have expected to hear the Bonnet family moving about or the other guests in their room. 

When they reached the main room they found the front door ajar. Porthos opened it and peered outside before closing it again.

‘Can’t see anyone out there, let’s check the rest of the tavern first before we look outside.’

Athos nodded and led them through to the kitchen. It was obvious something untoward had happened, a few pots and pans were out of place in the otherwise immaculate room. Porthos had wandered further into the room, he looked into the storeroom and stopped, a look of surprise on his face before stepping forward quickly. 

Athos joined him, the Bonnet family were sat on the floor of the storeroom, bound and gagged. Porthos was busy pulling the gag from Marie who coughed a few times before managing to speak.

‘They took your friends,’ she said looking at Athos, ‘they beat the cheeky one up and restrained him before forcing the younger one to go with them.’

Athos crouched in front of Gabriel and after liberating him asked, ‘how long ago was this?’

Porthos had just finished untying Paul who spoke first, ‘it was at least half an hour, monsieur.’

‘Who took them?’ asked Porthos.

Gabriel who was helping his wife to stand replied, ‘the two men, the other guests. I think they knew your friends.’

Porthos looked at Athos, ‘who could it be?’

Athos shook his head, ‘I have no idea...we all have enemies.’

‘I didn’t know this would happen, I didn’t know they would tie us up or hurt your friends...I wouldn’t have done it otherwise…’

Sarah was red faced, with tears streaming down her face. Marie pulled her into a hug, kissing the top of her head.

‘We know sweetheart,’ said the older woman tenderly.

‘What did you do?’ asked Athos.

Sarah sniffed a few times before responding, ‘the older man, the one that was sick, or supposed to be sick, he offered me money to make sure that you two drank from the cups that he gave me, he put something in the bottom of the cups.’

‘Why would you help them?’ asked Paul, who looked annoyed at the young woman.

Sarah looked at the floor, ‘I wanted you to like me, I thought you might like me if I had some money.’

Porthos glanced at Athos before asking, ‘can you describe the man?’

‘He was the same height as your friends, with a neat beard and short brown hair.’

Athos thought for a moment, ‘and you think he knew our friends?’

Marie nodded, ‘I’m sure he did, he called them both by name.’

Porthos sighed, ‘Lestrange.’

‘But he’s dead, they told us he fell into the Seine.’

‘That’s who it sounds like though don’t it, and he drugged us. That’s what he did to Aramis a few weeks ago.’

Although they had not been around when Lestrange had turned up, Aramis and d’Artagnan had told them what had happened. Aramis had been very embarrassed by the whole situation despite them all telling him he was not to blame. 

When d’Artagnan had described how the man had fallen into the river they were all convinced he would be dead and that was the end of the matter. They had all moved on. Now it seemed the man was not dead and was seeking revenge against Aramis and d’Artagnan.

‘We need to find them,’ said Porthos looking towards the door, ‘I’m going to look in Lestrange’s room.’

Porthos disappeared from the room, Athos could hear him climbing the stairs.

‘Did you see which way they went?’ asked Athos turning back to the family.

Paul, who had been looking at Sarah with barely hidden annoyance turned to him, ‘we couldn’t see from in there. The man said he wanted your friend to pay for what they did...what are your friends supposed to have done?’

Athos realised that if he related, briefly, what had happened it might help the Bonnet family to work out where Lestrange might have taken his friends.

‘The older man, Lestrange, used to be friendly with Aramis. They got into a fight on the banks of the Seine a few weeks ago. D’Artagnan was there as well. Lestrange fell into the river. Aramis was injured so d’Artagnan and he did not search for Lestrange. We all thought he was dead.’

Athos watched as Paul thought for a moment, it was obvious when an idea struck him, his eyes lit up

‘The river,’ he said, ‘there a river, not a big one, but big enough, a few hundred yards into the woods. The younger man, with Lestrange, he was asking if there were any lakes or rivers near hear.’

Athos understood.

Marie turned to her son, ‘you don’t think they mean to drown them do you?’

Paul nodded, ‘if Monsieur Lestrange wants revenge, and he doesn’t seem a very pleasant man that is what he might do.’

Athos looked towards the door. He hoped his friends were still alive and would remain so until he and Porthos could get to them. 

MMMM

After searching the room Lestrange and the other man had shared and finding nothing Porthos had returned downstairs to find Sarah disappearing out of the door and running off.

Athos said, ‘she has gone to alert the doctor in the town that we may need his services...I just hope we do not.’

Porthos nodded, he was concerned for his brothers as well. The way Lestrange had behaved, according to d’Artagnan, had been bordering on evil. The man had carefully manipulated the unsuspecting Aramis, drugging him and manhandling him to get what he wanted. Privately, d’Artagnan had told them he was unsure Aramis actually remembered all that had gone on when he was alone with Lestrange. D’Artagnan thought there was a chance Lestrange had forced himself onto an unaware, drugged, Aramis. 

Porthos had been pleased to learn the man was dead. He was not pleased now. 

As he and Athos double checked their weapons, Porthos turned to Paul who was waiting for them.

‘When we tell you to, you stay well back, and do not interfere,’ said Porthos sternly, ‘if anything happens to us run back here and tell your father where we are.’

‘Yes monsieur,’ said Paul, who despite his young age was behaving with a maturity Porthos was impressed with.

The plan was for Paul to taken them in the direction of the river, then he would wait. Porthos and Athos hoped to deal with Lestrange and the other man on their own, but they knew they might need help with Aramis and d’Artagnan if either man had been injured. 

‘Be careful son, do as they tell you,’ said Bonnet. 

Paul nodded before turning away and leading the two Musketeers towards the wooded area opposite the tavern. 

The wood was thick enough that they could not see very far into it and were forced to pick their way around large trees. Paul, who clearly knew the woods well, led them with confidence. 

After a few minutes he paused and allowed the two men to catch him up, he pointed forwards.

‘The river is another couple of hundred yards,’ he said.

‘Keep out of the way,’ said Athos as they passed him.

Paul remained where he was for a few seconds. They could hear him following them, but he was doing as he had been told and was keeping well back. The last thing they wanted was for an innocent life to be put in danger.

Keeping low and quiet Porthos and Athos approached the river.

MMMM

D’Artagnan watched Philippe forcing Aramis along, the grip on his lover's arm was tight. The slight man was clearly strong. Aramis was shivering, he was in his shirtsleeves in weather that was far too cold for such attire. If they were kept out for too long there was the added risk of Aramis getting too cold. 

‘You’ve made your point,’ he said to Lestrange, ‘you’ve proved you’re clever. You drugged our friends and captured us both. Why don’t you just go, leave us?’

‘What so you can just walk back to the tavern? That is hardly paying for leaving a man to die.’

Philippe had glanced back as he spoke, a cruel expression on his face. 

‘We didn’t leave him to die, he’d just been trying to-’

The air was knocked out of him as Lestrange punched him unexpectedly in the stomach. D’Artagnan had been unaware of the man moving around him as he spoke to Philippe. A second blow to his face saw him stagger a couple of paces back. As he tried to regain his footing he was kicked by Lestrange. D’Artagnan sprawled to the floor and was kicked several more times.

Lestrange stopped and stood back panting from the effort of the beating he had just given the Musketeer. 

‘I’ve wanted to do that ever since I met you,’ he said.

D’Artagnan could not stop Lestrange pulling him back to his feet and pushing him forward a few steps. He wrapped his arm across his bruised ribs protectively. After touching his forehead he found blood on his fingers. He knew his nose was bleeding as well. 

He looked across at Aramis and Philippe. Aramis was lying on the ground with Philippe keeping him there. D’Artagnan guessed that Aramis reacted to the attack and was tripped to the ground. His lover's neck had more marks from the rope, Philippe had probably been keeping the rope taught to prevent Aramis from trying to move, but Aramis had tried none the less. 

Aramis was pulled up roughly, he looked at d’Artagnan who nodded slightly to indicate that he was not too badly injured. Philippe turned Aramis around and continued to force him onwards. 

D’Artagnan felt himself nudged forward by the end of Lestrange’s gun. 

MMMM

When Lestrange had attacked his lover, Aramis had pulled forward. Despite being restrained he needed to help d’Artagnan. The younger man had been kicked to the floor, before being given the chance to get up Lestrange had kicked him several more times. 

Aramis had pulled forward only to be tripped to the floor himself, landing heavily. Philippe had pulled on the rope around his neck forcing him to pull himself up to be able to breathe.

When Lestrange had finished beating d’Artagnan and pulled him to his feet the young man could not hide the pain he was in. D’Artagnan wrapped his arm around himself protectively and, despite indicating that he was alright, Aramis suspected his lover was hurt more than he was letting on. There was a good chance he had cracked ribs, if d’Artagnan was hit in the chest again and one of the ribs was pushed into his lung the younger man would die.

The brief eye contact they had managed had not been enough for Aramis to convey how awful he felt about the whole situation. If he had not been taken in by Lestrange in the first place none of the events that followed would have happened. He should have heeded the advice from his friends the previous time the man had left him. Lestrange was not a good man, he was devious. He charmed people and used them. And now he was seeking revenge because he did not get his own way. Aramis did not believe that Lestrange was really seeking revenge because they left him to die. He was seeking recompense for not completing his plan. Aramis wondered again what Lestrange had intended to do to him on the banks of the seine. D’Artagnan had told him afterwards that it appeared that Lestrange wanted sex but that Aramis, despite his drugged state, was refusing. If d’Artagnan had not found them, would Lestrange have forced himself? And afterwards, would the man have thrown him into the river to rid himself of the evidence?

Philippe pushed him around and forced him to continue forwards, further into the woods. As they walked Aramis became aware of the sound of water. It dawned on him what Lestrange had planned. His former lover intended to drown him, or at least throw him in the river. Aramis had no idea what size the river was. 

Did Lestrange plan on pushing them both in? Aramis was not sure which of them Lestrange was more angry with. D’Artagnan was the one who was in a better position to check on Lestrange when he had fallen in the river. But Lestrange had been planning on framing him for theft so Aramis knew his own life had not meant much to his former lover any more. 

Philippe pushed him on. The river came into view. It was not very wide but it looked deep and cold. In the summer Aramis suspected the water would be quite pleasant, he could well imagine Paul and other local youngsters playing in and around the water. But now, in the middle of winter, the water would not be welcoming. Aramis was already shivering constantly, he was very cold. Perhaps the reason Lestrange survived his own plunge into cold water was due to his fine doublet adding an extra layer to his body. Aramis did not have that luxury.

He stumbled again, but this time Philippe did not prevent him from crashing to his knees, he instead held him there. Knelt by the river, shivering.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the inspiring comments guys. :-)

As Aramis stumbled to the floor and Philippe stopped him from trying to get up again d’Artagnan knew the two men intended to kill them both. This was not a punishment, this was an execution. Lestrange was angry for apparently being left to die and Philippe seemed keen to encourage that anger.

‘Let us go, you’ve hurt us both now, just let us go...at least let Aramis go, he wasn’t in any state to have looked for you when you fell in the river. It’s me that left you.’

Aramis twisted around and glared at him. D’Artagnan knew if they both survived his lover would be having words with him for attempting to save him by sacrificing his own life. D’Artagnan hoped to live to have the conversation, he would not mind being berated by Aramis for that, if it meant they were both alive.

Lestrange moved across to where Aramis was knelt, he quickly passed the gun to Philippe who moved away a few steps holding the gun on d’Artagnan. Although d’Artagnan was sure they all knew he was in no state to fight either of them or run very far with his injured ribs. 

‘Get on with it,’ said Philippe, glancing at Lestrange, ‘push him in. I want to see his lovers face when Aramis drowns. I want him to know what it’s like.’

‘But he didn’t die,’ said d’Artagnan indicating Lestrange.

‘He would have done.’

Lestrange had his hands on Aramis shoulders, he was looking at the river as if he was contemplating proceeding or not. 

‘He loved you.’

Lestrange turned back to d’Artagnan. Philippe stared at him. Aramis did not move beyond lowering his head as much as he could.

‘What?’

‘He loved you...before, when you were together,’ repeated d’Artagnan.

‘You told me he was just a man you fucked a few times, that he was just a good friend,’ said Philippe with a scowl.

‘He was, it’s not my fault if he was weak.’

Lestrange looked at Philippe who did not look convinced. 

‘Kill him then, if he means nothing to you...kill him. Philippe pulled a knife from his belt and held it out to Lestrange.

‘No, just leave us here, tie me up, we’ll be found eventually but...look at him, he’s shivering, he’s suffering.’

D’Artagnan could tell he had hit a nerve with Lestrange. Aramis had loved Lestrange but did not know if it was reciprocated. D’Artagnan now suspected it had been. 

Lestrange was hesitating but he slowly reached out for the knife.

MMMM

When d’Artagnan had offered himself up instead of him, Aramis had been angry. He had guessed his lover would resort to the tactic as he was the only one of them who could speak. If they both survived Aramis decided he would have to berate his lover, he hoped he would get the chance. Their situation was bleak. He had no idea how long Athos and Porthos would remain unconscious for. They could not rely on any help coming to them. They were on their own. Aramis could not see a way out. Lestrange and Philippe had them where they wanted them, on the bank of a river, ready to exact their warped revenge. 

Aramis had then been a little surprised that d’Artagnan had told Lestrange that he had loved him. But he was more surprised at how Lestrange had taken the news. His former lover had hesitated for a few seconds. Lestrange had still taken the knife, but he had hesitated. Perhaps d’Artagnan’s words were giving Lestrange cause to doubt himself, to rethink his intentions. There had been little signs the whole time that Lestrange did not want to cause them any real harm. Apart from him beating d’Artagnan, Lestrange had been the more reserved of the two men. It was Philippe who had beaten him and pushed him around. Perhaps Philippe was the one who had put the idea of revenge into Lestrange’s head. Perhaps now it was Lestrange that was being manipulated. 

If it was Philippe and not Lestrange who was really in charge, could Lestrange be reasoned with? Aramis guessed that d’Artagnan had come to the same conclusion, as he was actively appealing to Lestrange, even if it might be to his own detriment. 

Aramis wished he could talk, he was sure he could persuade his former lover to leave them alone. Or, perhaps that was why he had been gagged so quickly, Lestrange was worried he would be swayed to stop his vendetta. The more Aramis thought about it the more he was sure he was right. Had Philippe come up with the plan in the first place?

D’Artagnan was still trying to persuade the two to let them go, pointing out that he was shivering. Aramis was cold, he could not control the shivering at all. If he was out in the cold for much longer he was liable to pass out. He wondered if their captors had considered that. He doubted his death would have such an impact if he was unconscious at the time of it. 

One thing the shivering was hiding was that Aramis had found that the rope around his wrist was loose. He had been spending the last few minutes slowly slipping his hand out. It was hard work, his frozen fingers struggling to move and grip. He had been forced to pull on the rope that was looped around his neck but it was worth it. If he could get free the two of them stood more of a chance.

‘Stab him. Stab him in the heart,’ Philippe said. 

‘That’s not what we agreed, we decided just to hurt them, scare them. I...I…’

Lestrange appeared confused now, conflicted, and Philippe was getting annoyed. Aramis was facing away from the men so could not see all that was happening but he heard d’Artagnan hiss with pain. He tried to twist around but Lestrange would not allow it. He renewed his efforts to release himself, he had nearly squeezed his left hand out when he found himself pulled around and pushed to the ground.

Lestrange kicked his left arm causing him to yelp in pain, the kick was sufficient to tear the fabric of his shirt and no doubt had left grazes to his arm. Lestrange crouched down and grabbed at Aramis’ left hand pulling it back fully within the restraining rope before pulling them tight again.

Aramis was not paying attention to what Lestrange was doing. He was looking at d’Artagnan who was now also restrained. Philippe had managed to tie d’Artagnan’s wrists over a low tree branch. The position did not look comfortable, his lover had injured ribs, the position must have been painful. D’Artagnan was panting, trying to keep his eyes open, but he looked unfocused. Aramis wondered if Philippe had hit him as well. 

With d’Artagnan no longer any kind of threat Philippe turned to Lestrange, the gun held loosely at his side.

‘Kill him, that’s what we agreed.’

‘We didn’t agree to kill them.’

‘Well just kill him then.’

‘No, Lestrange, just leave us here,’ d’Artagnan managed to say through clenched teeth. 

Philippe raised the gun and swung it into d’Artagnan, catching him on the side. Aramis shouted through his gag at the treatment of his lover. D’Artagnan gasped at the assault, his breath hitching. 

Lestrange slapped Aramis across the back in an attempt to get him to be quiet. He struggled, trying to move away from Lestrange who did not make much of an effort to keep hold of him.

What stopped Aramis from continuing to move was Philippe raising the gun and pushing it into the side of d’Artagnan’s head.

MMMM

Athos and Porthos were sufficiently hidden by the undergrowth that they did not need to crouch down. They could see the quartet of men by the river. Aramis was knelt on the ground, he was bound and gagged. The rope binding his wrists had been cruelly looped around his neck restricting his movement and probably his breathing. 

D’Artagnan was unbound but had clearly been beaten, he had one arm wrapped around his body, he either had an injury to his arm or his ribs, they could not tell. 

Lestrange was pointing a gun at d’Artagnan whilst the other man had a hand on Aramis shoulder, keeping him knelt by the river. Aramis was shivering.

‘We need to get this ended,’ said Porthos quietly, ‘they’re both injured and Aramis must be suffering from the cold by now.’

‘I do not want to rush in,’ replied Athos.

Porthos nodded, they both knew that rushing in before they had fully assessed the situation could prove fatal.

As they continued to watch Lestrange and the other man swapped places. They could not hear the conversation that was going on but d’Artagnan appeared to be trying to reason with their captors, his gaze frequently falling on Aramis who was trying to twist around to see what was happening but was prevented by Lestrange. 

With no warning, Aramis was pushed to the ground and kicked by Lestrange who did something to Aramis’ restraints. At the same time, the other man had punched the distracted d’Artagnan causing him to sag. The man grabbed him roughly and half walked, half dragged the injured man to a nearby tree branch and forced his arms up, binding them over the branch. 

Aramis appeared to be protesting at the treatment but was punched by Lestrange. Aramis persisted until the other man pointed his gun at d’Artagnan. Aramis stilled.

‘Are we killing or injuring them?’ asked Porthos as he levelled his gun.

‘Let’s give them another few seconds, we may still be able to take them peacefully,’ replied Athos as he gently reached up and lowered Porthos’ gun with his hand.

‘Doubt it,’ said Porthos.

MMMM

Lestrange was clearly wavering. He was not as sure about what he wanted to do. D’Artagnan pressed the issue.

‘You know it’s wrong...what you’re doing,’ said d’Artagnan.

He was sure he had at least one broken rib, it felt like they were all broken, particularly after Philippe had forced his arms above his head. He could only take short shallow breaths. Aramis had complained and earned himself another thump from Lestrange who still had hold of the knife. 

But Lestrange did not look certain, whatever his grand scheme had been it was not playing out as he had imagined. D’Artagnan guessed this was due to Philippe perhaps being rougher with their captives than Lestrange had expected. 

When Philippe, who had moved to stand in front of Aramis and Lestrange spoke again, d’Artagnan’s blood ran cold.

‘Either kill him...or I will kill you.’

Lestrange stared at Philippe then glanced at the gun he still held at his side. Aramis tried to speak through his gag again, Lestrange reached out and twisted his hand around the rope enough to force Aramis to be quiet. After Aramis had ceased to move or make a noise Lestrange looked between his new and former lovers, then at the knife in his hand.

Lestrange glanced at d’Artagnan and shook his head.

‘Philippe, this has gone too far…’

Philippe raised his gun and aimed it squarely at Lestrange.

D’Artagnan looked at Aramis who was already looking at him, his breathing fast. The look on Aramis face told d’Artagnan that he thought he was about to die. D’Artagnan hated to agree.

Lestrange raised the knife. His own self-preservation, unsurprisingly kicking in. 

MMMM

‘I don’t think we can wait,’ said Porthos as he again raised his weapon.

Athos did not stop him this time, instead he levelled his own weapon. They had not discussed which man they were aiming at, they knew instinctively.

As soon as the other man had aimed his gun at Lestrange, Athos had known it was time to act. When Lestrange raised the knife above the prone helpless form of their brother they did not wait any longer. 

They fired, and they shot to kill.

MMMM

Aramis was sure he was going to die; stabbed by a former lover as his current lover looked on. D’Artagnan had paled considerably, he was obviously in pain and struggling to breathe. But Aramis knew d’Artagnan was not thinking about himself, d’Artagnan was thinking of him.

Aramis felt Lestrange shift slightly above him, leaning over him a little more, restricting his own breathing further. D’Artagnan’s eyes widened in shock. Aramis guessed Lestrange had made his decision and had readied his weapon. 

He knew the knife was being wielded. In a selfish moment, Aramis hoped Lestrange’s aim would be true, that he would stab him in the heart, killing him quickly. A drawn out death with d’Artagnan looking on was not what he wanted. Would his former lover at least grant him that?

He wanted to screw his eyes shut but equally wanted to keep looking at d’Artagnan. He noted that Philippe had gone back to aiming his gun at d’Artagnan. Perhaps his lover would join him in death, thought Aramis, sadly.

Two gunshots rang out. Time slowed down for Aramis. He felt Lestrange fall onto him a sharp pain in his right arm at the same time. What little air he had in his lungs was pushed from him by Lestrange’s impact. Lestrange was a heavy dead weight over him. As the weight settled the knife skittered away blood staining the blade. Aramis knew he had been at least badly cut by the knife. Lestrange was dead, shot, as he had collapsed the knife must have sliced his arm. 

As Aramis tried to take a breath all he really wanted to do was get to d’Artagnan. His lover was staring at him wide-eyed. A neat hole in d’Artagnan’s doublet told Aramis that his lover had been shot. D’Artagnan wavered for a few seconds before slumping as far as his restrained arms would allow.

Philippe fell to the floor in front of him, blocking his view of d’Artagnan. Philippe had been shot dead. Aramis knew his brothers were near, knew they were saved. But was it too late? Philippe had shot d’Artagnan at the same time as he had been shot by one of his brothers, probably a reflex action. 

Was d'Artagnan dead?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is medical stuff, I am not a medic, I apologies for any mistakes.

‘That ain’t what was supposed to happen,’ said Porthos as he surged forwards with Athos. 

They had fired their guns simultaneously, Porthos had hit Lestrange in the chest, close to his heart. Athos had hit the other man in the side of the head. Unfortunately, the final second of each man’s life proved detrimental to both Aramis and d’Artagnan. 

As Lestrange collapsed on top of the restrained marksman the knife he had clutched in his hand had sliced deeply into Aramis’ right arm. The other man whose finger was resting on the trigger of his gun had just swung it back to point at d’Artagnan. As the other man crumpled to the floor his last reflex action had been to pull the trigger. The ball from his gun hitting d’Artagnan in the shoulder. 

They had watched in horror as d’Artagnan blinked a couple of times as he looked at Aramis before slumping. His bound arms taking all of his weight, a dark stain spreading across his doublet.

Athos ran to d’Artagnan and immediately hooked his arm around the man’s waist as he reached up with his main gauche to cut the rope that was keeping him restrained. Once free Athos lowered d’Artagnan to the ground. 

Porthos reached Aramis who was conscious and shouting through his gag. Porthos pushed the body off his friend and tried to still his movements so that he could pull the gag from his mouth. 

‘Aramis, it’s us, calm down,’ Porthos wondered if his friend was confused and had not realised he was now safe. 

Aramis was moving to such an extent that he was making the wound to his arm worse. Porthos was worried he might do some serious damage. Porthos pressed his hand down on Aramis’ back, forcing him to be still. Aramis refocused on him for a few seconds, long enough for Porthos to pull the gag free. 

Aramis took a breath before coughing convulsively for a few seconds. Porthos pushed his friend onto his side to aid his breathing as he used his parrying dagger to cut his restraints being careful not to graze his skin any more than it already was. 

‘D’Artagnan,’ Aramis managed to say as he got his breathing under control. 

‘Athos is looking after him...stop moving about, your arm, you’ll make it worse.’

‘Check he’s alright, he’s been shot…’

‘We know Aramis, calm down…’

As soon as Porthos had freed Aramis’ arms the marksman was trying to move towards d’Artagnan. But he had no coordination. Porthos grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to sit still.

‘No, you must see to d’Artagnan,’ urged Aramis again, his voice a little slurred, his movements becoming erratic. Despite his agitation, Aramis was shivering from the prolonged exposure to the cold.

Athos was looking across at them with concern.

‘Aramis you need to calm down you’re making it worse,’ said Athos firmly before rising from beside the still form of d’Artagnan and crossing to them.

‘No, don’t leave him...he’s been shot.’

Aramis was trying to move again; trying to reach d’Artagnan.

‘Let us bind your wound first, Aramis,’ said Athos as calmly as he could, ‘it is bleeding badly. You cannot lose too much blood, Aramis, keep still for a few seconds will you.’

Aramis did not seem able to comprehend Athos’ words. Porthos could tell his friend was too caught up worrying about d’Artagnan. 

Athos looked up at Porthos who shook his head, they knew they would not be able to reason with their friend, he was confused and injured. Aramis had been in the cold for a long time but had been afflicted with a surge of energy which was not helping him in the slightest. 

‘Porthos,’ said Athos quietly, ‘we need him still.’

Porthos knew what Athos meant, he did not want to act, but in the circumstances, Aramis was being more of a hindrance than a help. 

Porthos pushed Aramis away slightly, pulled back his arm and punched his best friend in the head. The effect was instant, Aramis slumped unconscious. Between them, they lay him down gently.

‘Sorry,’ said Porthos quietly to the unconscious man as he pulled his bandana off. 

‘I’ll get back to d’Artagnan.’

‘How is he?’ asked Porthos. 

‘Not good, the ball is still in his shoulder, we will need a doctor, preferably one with experience to get it out...he could have done it,’ replied Athos nodding toward Aramis.

‘He needs to learn not to put others first occasionally,’ said Porthos ruefully, ‘he could have bled to death...as it is he’s not in a good way either.’

Athos had pushed d’Artagnan’s doublet off his shoulder and was busy wrapping his scarf around the wound as a temporary bandage. 

They both looked up as they became aware of someone watching them.

‘Monsieurs,’ said Paul timidly from a few yards away, ‘is it safe for me to come over now?’

‘Yes Paul,’ said Athos. 

The young man approached them slowly, he looked at the bodies of the dead men for a few seconds before focusing on d’Artagnan. 

‘Is he going to die?’

‘I hope not Paul,’ said Athos without looking up, ‘the doctor in the town, is he skilled? Will he be able to get a ball out?’

Paul nodded, before realising that Athos was still looking down.

‘Yes Monsieur, he was a surgeon.’ 

Athos replied, ‘good, run back, tell the doctor that he has a gunshot wound to the shoulder to deal with, the ball is still in the shoulder. We’ll probably need some help carrying our friends out, if you and your father could come back we would appreciate it.’

Paul looked at the pale form of Aramis then at Porthos.

‘He’s lost some blood and he’s cold, but he should be fine, we just need to stitch up the wound and get him warm.’

Paul nodded. He turned and hurried away moving fast despite the difficult terrain.

Porthos pulled off his doublet and used it as a blanket over his friend. He looked across to Athos who had pushed d’Artagnan’s shirt up and was feeling his ribs. 

‘He has been kicked, I think,’ said Athos, ‘they are both covered in bruises.’

Porthos nodded, ‘I guess we will be staying here for at least a couple of days after all.’

MMMM

The doctor was certainly proficient. He had directed them to lay d’Artagnan on the table that had been cleared ready. He had asked Porthos to assist him, and Porthos was only too happy to oblige. As the Musketeer had gone about stripping d’Artagnan down to his underclothes the doctor had taken a look at the wound on Aramis’ arm. Athos had assured the doctor that he was confident in dealing with the injury. The doctor had looked at him for a few seconds before nodding and returning to d’Artagnan.

Athos stripped Aramis of his torn and dirty shirt before covering him with a couple of blankets leaving just his injured arm exposed. Aramis needed to be warmed up. 

Athos had been impressed when they had arrived back at the tavern, the main room had been rearranged. The table they had sat at to eat their meal the previous evening had been moved to the centre of the room and two smaller tables had been pushed together a little closer to the fire. Marie had prepared boiling water and had laid out blankets and cloths, some already torn into strips. The efficient doctor’s instructions no doubt. 

‘It’s for the best that he is unconscious. This would not have been pleasant for him if he were awake. As it is when he does come round he will be in some considerable pain. I have a few pain draughts I will leave for you.’

The doctor had observed Porthos washing the wound on d’Artagnan’s shoulder carefully as he prepared what he would need to extract the ball. 

‘Hold him down for me, if he wakes prematurely I do not want him moving about.’

Porthos did as he was told, leaning across d’Artagnan.

‘Paul,’ said Porthos, ‘hold onto his legs for us, just in case.’

Paul, who had been lingering in the doorway stepped forward and rested his hands on d’Artagnan’s legs. Athos could see the young man was shaking a little. He suspected that Paul was starting to fully understand all that had gone on and how serious the situation was. 

When Paul had returned he was not only accompanied by his father but two other men from the town. Bonett had explained that the men had been told by the doctor that an incident had occurred at the tavern. The men, the landlord and his son, were shocked at what had happened, they were relieved that the people responsible for the attack on the soldiers were not locals. The landlord had told them he had the utmost respect for the Musketeers. 

Between them, they had carried their unconscious brothers back to the tavern. The landlord had then excused himself to deal with the two bodies. Athos was grateful they did not have to arrange for them to be collected. He just wanted to concentrate on d’Artagnan and Aramis. 

‘There,’ said the doctor, ‘I have the ball and the fabric from his shirt that was carried with it...clean the wound again and I will stitch it.’

Porthos followed the doctor's instructions without question.

Athos returned his attention to Aramis who was still showing no signs of waking. He suspected the punch that Porthos delivered was not the only reason for his friends continued state of unconsciousness. The loss of blood and the cold temperatures he had been forced to endure would not have helped him. Aramis was gradually warming up, his proximity to the fire helping.

He felt a presence by him, Sarah her eyes still red from crying reached out and took the pale man’s arm holding it for Athos to work. 

‘Thank you,’ said Athos.

‘This was my fault monsieur.’

‘No it was not, Sarah, the men wanted to hurt our friends and they would have done so with or without your help. You made a mistake, that is all.’

Paul appeared beside them and said quietly, ‘you don’t need money to make me like you.’

He smiled at her, after a couple of sniffs Sarah managed a small smile back. Athos nodded to Paul who remained where he was. Athos guessed he wanted to help in case Aramis came around as he stitched. Athos hoped his friend would remain in his current compliant state, he knew the wound would take several stitches to close. 

They continued to work in silence for a few minutes. Marie quietly walked up to the table where Aramis lay.

‘Monsieur Athos, would it be useful if we collected the belongings of the other men together? Will you need to see what they left behind?’

Athos paused in his work, ‘I doubt we will need anything of theirs madam, we will have a quick look through it but you may do with it as you wish.’

Marie smiled, ‘my husband found a few coins and a couple of rings on the bodies, I suspect they will cover the cost of the good doctor….’

Athos smiled, ‘thank you.’

Marie took over from Sarah, holding Aramis’ arm, ‘you two can tidy the guest room then.’

Paul and Sarah left quietly, Athos could hear them climb the stairs and enter the room that Lestrange and the other man had used. 

As Athos finished stitching the wound and wrapping a bandage around it Marie gathered a few cloths and some warm water and started to clean Aramis’ other injuries. Athos realised she had orchestrated the dismissal of the younger family members so that they could work. 

‘This will need a bandage on,’ said Marie as she gently wiped the cloth over the deep graze marks on Aramis’ left arm, ‘and his wrists as well. The rope they used was quite rough.’

‘You have shown great kindness to us, Madam,’ said Athos, ‘your family have been hurt because of us.’

‘Nonsense,’ Marie replied, ‘you could not have predicted this. He was shocked to see the man that attacked him.’

Marie looked down at Aramis as she spoke and began to gently clean the grazes on his neck.

‘We don’t know what happened between them but Aramis clearly believed the man to have been killed. How could you have known they would come to find you?’

Porthos approached, he laid a hand over Aramis arm looking at Athos expectantly.

‘He is still cold and he has lost blood. He needs rest...If we can manage to make him do so he will be fine. What about d’Artagnan?’

‘He should be fine,’ replied Athos, ‘the doctor said there is a chance of infection but he thinks we cleaned it well enough. He’ll be in pain for a while. He won’t be able to ride for a few days.’

‘Stay as long as you need to,’ said Marie, ‘the jewellery will also cover a few days accommodation.’

Athos nodded his thanks.

MMMM

After settling the two injured men back in their room Porthos and Athos sat at the small table between their brothers. 

Porthos was looking through the few belongings that Lestrange and the other man, who they suspected was his lover, had left behind. 

‘There ain’t nothing here. The only thing of value must have been the jewellery and that’s been put to good use,’ he said glancing across to d’Artagnan. 

Athos nodded, ‘Aramis is going to be wracked with guilt again. He felt bad enough a few weeks ago when Lestrange attacked him as if it was his fault.’

‘And he’s gonna be impossible when he wakes up…’

‘He can be quite trying at times,’ agreed Athos.

Porthos contemplated the number of times that Aramis had compromised his own wellbeing to see to theirs first. More than once the man had been on the point of collapse before he would admit that he was not as fine as he would have proclaimed to start with. 

‘I think it is time we had another talk to him about his self-sacrificing ways,’ said Athos with a sad smile. 

Porthos thought for a moment before replying, ‘I think I may have an idea how we can get the point across…’


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, but more to come.

Aramis was caught in the moment between wakefulness and sleep. The moment where nothing mattered. Where it did not matter what had happened or what was due to happen. The moment before the harsh reality of life returned. 

Thoughts and images began to form in his mind. The realisation of what had happened flooded back to him. He took a quick breath and opened his eyes. He tried to sit up. There was only one thing he needed to do. Check on d’Artagnan. His lover had been shot. Watching him slump unconscious, not knowing if he was dead or alive and then being kept away had been heartwrenching. They had not understood, Porthos and Athos. They had meant well, but all he needed was to be next to his lover, to touch him. To know. 

Was d’Artagnan dead?

‘No,’ a firm voice said from next to him with an equally firm hand pushing him back down on the bed. 

Aramis was about to protest and to try to escape before he realised it was Porthos. He managed to focus on his friend, realising they were back in the tavern and he was not lying on the ground in the wood. He also realised he was not freezing cold. He still did not feel particularly warm, but he was considerably warmer than he had been.

He also knew his arm hurt, and that several other parts of his body were sore, bruised and battered. 

‘D’Artagnan is alive,’ said Porthos slowly.

Aramis tried to look for his lover, d’Artagnan was not on the bed next to him. He peered around Porthos and saw the young Musketeer lying, very still, on the bed that Athos had slept in the night before.

‘Aramis, look at me,’ Porthos said, ‘the local doctor saw to his wound, it was done properly, I assisted him. He may still get a fever but we can see him through that.’

Porthos was accurately predicting the questions that he was going to ask. Was he really that predictable?

‘He’s gonna be in pain and he has to keep his arm still for a few days to allow the wound to heal properly.’

Porthos removed his hand from Aramis’ chest but replaced it as soon as Aramis tried to move.

‘Stay there, once you’ve got some of this broth in you we might let you sit with him for a bit.’

Aramis furrowed his brow a little, Porthos was being a little firmer in his tone than usual. He noticed Athos rise from the chair he was sat in and walk a few paces forward.

‘We thought it was time for you to be reminded, again, that you need to think about yourself occasionally.’

After taking a few sips of the broths Aramis found his voice.

‘What are you going on about? I just want to know he’s alright.’

‘Exactly, and we have told you. Have you even considered your own injuries?’

Aramis finally realised what was going on. His brothers were giving him the same talk they did every so often. The one where they berate him for not taking care of himself when others had also been injured. He looked down, he knew they were right. But every time he found himself in such a situation the other man’s need always outweighed his own.

‘Sometimes, you need to be seen to first, Aramis. Back there, in the wood. You were bleeding badly. Aramis, your insistence on wanting us to see to him first could have meant you bled to death.’

Aramis looked up at Athos. He had not realised his injury was that serious. He knew he would need a few stitches but he had not considered if bad enough that he might have died. 

He looked down at his arm and realised his right arm was in a sling, a bandage wrapped around his upper arm thickly. More bandages were wrapped around his left forearm, where he remembered being kicked by Lestrange, and his wrists, which he guessed was due to the ropes. 

‘Sorry,’ was all he could think of to say.

Porthos huffed, ‘we know, and we know you won’t change, but every so often we need to remind you.’

Aramis managed a smile. As he finished the broth they explained to him what had happened when they had woken in the room that morning.

‘I’m sor-’

‘No,’ said Athos, ‘this was not your fault, you thought the man was dead. If you start blaming yourself I shall find an inventive way to punish you that will not involve anything you enjoy doing.’

Aramis realised Athos had meant what he said.

‘And whilst we are on the subject of you doing things you shouldn’t,’ said Porthos, ‘if we catch you overexerting yourself by doing things for ‘im,’ he indicated d’Artagnan, ‘we have decided we will restrain you.’

Aramis had heard that before; they never followed up on the threat. 

‘And we mean it this time,’ said Athos nodding towards the end of the bed Aramis was still lying on.

Hooked over the bedstead were four belts. Aramis could not hide his surprise, he looked back at his brothers. Their expressions were serious, there was no hint of amusement in Athos, no barely hidden mirth from Porthos. His brother had every intention of tying him to the bed if he did not do as they instructed.

‘We’ll let you sit with him for a bit, but you need rest as much as he does. You lost a lot of blood, he barely lost any. You are suffering from the effects of the cold, he is not nearly as bad. If anything Aramis you came off worse.’

‘I didn’t get shot or beaten up,’ protested Aramis.

‘No you were stabbed, bound and gagged and beaten up,’ countered Athos.

‘And forced to remain outside in just your shirtsleeves; much longer and you might have died from exposure.’

Aramis realised he was not going to win. His brothers had prepared well for his arguments.

Porthos picked up a blanket and leaned forward to help Aramis up. Athos placed a chair by d’Artagnan’s bed. Porthos helped Aramis to make the few steps across the room and to sit in the chair before draping the blanket around his shoulders. 

‘Thank you,’ Aramis said glancing up at them both.

He knew they were only looking out for him. He would do his best to behave.

MMMM

They chatted quietly as they sat their vigil around d’Artagnan’s bed. Aramis was frequently checking the younger man for any signs of fever. They were hopeful, he had woken very briefly but had made no sense, falling asleep after a few seconds. He had not even focused on any of them, merely moaned and tried to move. Athos had gently restrained the injured man. Aramis had wisely not interfered the threats they had made to restrain him had clearly worked. 

They had no intention of restraining Aramis, even if he did break their rules. When Porthos had suggested they hook empty weapons belts over the end of the bed and imply they would be used on Aramis, Athos had resisted. Porthos had told him that he would not carry the threat through, but if they could show Aramis how serious they were he was more likely to behave himself. Porthos would not be so cruel as to restrain his best friend.

D’Artagnan moaned again but did not appear to be waking up. He was dreaming, Aramis closed his fingers around d’Artagnan’s hand in an attempt to offer the younger man some reassurance. 

‘He couldn’t have checked on you...you’d drugged him...it was me who should have checked…’

Athos watched as Aramis struggled not to react to d’Artagnan’s words. If was obvious the younger man was replaying the events from earlier in the day. Probably from just before they were both injured.

‘Let him go…’

‘He tried to reason with Lestrange,’ said Aramis, ‘he reminded him that I was in no state to check on him when he fell in the river.’

‘Don’t kill him…’

‘He thinks you’re dead,’ stated Porthos.

‘I thought he was dead,’ replied Aramis, ‘they were going to kill us both.’

‘You were heading that way by yourself, if we hadn’t stopped you,’ said Porthos quietly. 

Aramis looked at Porthos for a few seconds.

‘You knocked me out.’

Porthos nodded, ‘didn’t have a choice,’ he said squeezing Aramis’ shoulder.

‘Sorry,’ said Aramis.

D’Artagnan continued to mumble incoherently for a few more seconds before becoming still again.

Athos noticed that Aramis was blinking, his friend was struggling to remain awake himself.

‘Aramis,’ he said quietly. 

The marksman looked up at him and nodded. Athos was still surprised that Porthos’ threat had worked so well. Although he doubted it would last. Aramis made his own way back to his bed and despite trying to stay awake was asleep within minutes. 

MMMM

Lestrange had the knife in his hand. Lestrange was about to plunge the knife into Aramis’ back. Lestrange was going to kill Aramis and there was nothing he could do.

‘You’re safe,’ said Porthos quietly, resting a hand across his chest lightly. 

D’Artagnan realised he had been dreaming, his shallow breaths were fast. He opened his eyes and looked at Porthos. He was back in the tavern.

Athos was stood behind Porthos who was perched on the edge of the bed, stopping him from moving. 

‘You were shot. The man with Lestrange fired his gun at the same time as I shot him. You were hit in the shoulder.’

D’Artagnan was about to speak when Athos nodded to his right. D’Artagnan looked across the room to see Aramis either unconscious or asleep on one of the other beds. Aramis had several bruises on his face and his arm was in a sling. 

‘He was unlucky as well,’ said Athos, ‘I shot Lestrange just as he was bringing the knife down. It sliced Aramis’ arm quite badly, he’s lost blood and was suffering from the cold. He will be alright, provided he rests. Which I am sure he will be more inclined to do when he knows that you are on the mend as well.’

Porthos grinned, ‘he was a bit of a nuisance.’

‘Are you responsible for his black eye? I don’t remember him having that before.’

Porthos nodded, ‘we had to give him a talking to, he was far more interested in you than his own injuries, which at that moment were more pressing.’

As Porthos helped d’Artagnan to sit up a little and they gave him some food and water they updated him with what had happened since he was shot. D’Artagnan found himself looking down at his shoulder when he realised how bad the injury was.

‘You will be out of commission for a while.’

‘How long?’

‘Weeks.’

D’Artagnan stared at them both.

‘You were shot, in the shoulder. The ball had to be dug out. You’re lucky it does not appear to have been infected. Not to mention the injuries to your ribs,’ said Athos.

D’Artagnan found it hard to accept that he would not be on active duty until he had recovered. He had spent a few weeks here and there recovering from injuries, but to have to spend several weeks recuperating seemed excessive. He looked at his shoulder again and tried to move his arm. He instantly regretted the attempt. 

Porthos steadied him as he got his breathing under control. The wave of dizziness took a few seconds to pass. 

‘You’re not going to try that again are you?’ asked Porthos, ‘or do we have to make the same threat to you that we did to ‘im?’

‘Sorry,’ gasped d’Artagnan, before furrowing his brow, ‘what were you going to do to Aramis?’

‘Porthos threatened to tie him to the bed if he tried to move about too much.’

‘You wouldn’t really have done that would you?’

Porthos shook his head, ‘he needs to be reminded occasionally that we love him and that sometimes he has to be looked after before the rest of us.’

‘He is annoying…’ said d’Artagnan with a sigh.

‘I can understand them ganging up on me,’ said Aramis quietly, without opening his eyes, ‘but, d’Artagnan, I would have thought you would have been loyal.’

‘How long have you been awake for?’ asked Athos as he moved to help Aramis to sit up.

‘Long enough to know that you are all against me,’ replied Aramis with a smile. 

D’Artagnan looked across to his lover. Aramis was pale, making the bruises stand out starkly. He still looked cold, but he was focused.

‘You deserve it,’ teased d’Artagnan, pleased that they could have a light-hearted conversation, despite all that had gone on. 

He knew there would still be questions to answer and healing to be done but they were both alive, which was more than he thought possible just before he had been shot. 

MMMM

Aramis was grateful to Athos and Porthos when they left d’Artagnan and him alone. They left to have a meal and check on the horses, but Aramis knew they had really left so that d’Artagnan and he could talk in private. 

Aramis looked at the closed door for a few moments before speaking.

‘I know you won’t want me to apologise for this, but you also know I’m going to anyway. I feel this is my fault.’

D’Artagnan did not interrupt him.

‘And I wanted to both thank you and scold you for trying to draw their attention away from me. You all think I am the only self-sacrificing one of us...but what you tried to do earlier was just as self-sacrificing as anything I’ve ever done.’

Aramis paused again, listening for any sign of his brothers returning. He pushed the covers back and slowly swung his legs off the bed. He pulled the blanket around his shoulders a little tighter before crossing the couple of yards to the chair by d’Artagnan’s bed.

‘You’ll get in trouble,’ admonished d’Artagnan with a slight smile.

‘I don’t care, it will be worth it to be near you,’ replied Aramis as he settled himself in the hard-backed chair.

He leaned forward slightly and took d’Artagnan’s left hand in his, squeezing his lovers fingers slightly. 

‘You do realise,’ said d’Artagnan, ‘that you really were in no state to actually have gone and checked on him. It should have been me...but I was more concerned for you at the time. He brought it on himself.’

‘I’m not convinced he actually wanted to hurt either of us...I think he, that charming, manipulating man had been twisted by Philippe. I think Philippe was jealous that his lover might have been near me, a previous lover.’

‘It’s all a bit sensational isn’t it?’ suggested d’Artagnan.

Aramis was inclined to agree. But the situation, perhaps ridiculous to an outsider, had nearly cost them both their lives. As it was his lover was going to be suffering for several weeks. His own injury would not take as long to recover from if he followed his brother's instructions. And as he intended to look after d’Artagnan as much as he could, he would have no choice but to aid his own recovery by actually resting.

‘Have you got any more lovers that are going to cause us problems?’ asked d’Artagnan.

Aramis found himself thinking back over their time together, d’Artagnan had a point. In one way or another a few men and one woman who he had been in intimate relationships with had caused them issues. 

‘I’m surprised you’ve stayed with me this long.’ said Aramis after a few seconds.

‘It’s certainly been interesting…’

Aramis replied, ‘I’m sorry.’

D’Artagnan tilted his head slightly, unable to hide his exasperation. Aramis smiled, unable to maintain the serious expression any longer.

‘Constance is the one you’re going to need to apologise to,’ remarked d’Artagnan, ‘her husband is away next week, I was going to spend a few days with her.’

‘I shall go into hiding,’ replied Aramis.

D’Artagnan sobered a little, looking at Aramis intently, ‘you’re not going to dwell on this, are you? I mean, you won’t continue to blame yourself? I know that he was your lover, but that doesn’t make any of this your fault.’

Aramis looked down for a few seconds before replying, ‘seeing you hurt, badly, it’s difficult for me not to continually wonder if I could have done something differently...but I shall try.’

D’Artagnan nodded, ’good, because I do not want to deal with a depressed Musketeer whilst I recuperate.’

Aramis managed a smile, ‘I shall behave for you...I hate to imagine what you are going to be like whilst you heal...impossible, is my first thought.’

D’Artagnan sighed, ‘yes,’ he paused for a moment, before grinning, ‘I apologise in advance.’

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it, thanks for all your lovely reviews. 
> 
> As d'Artagnan will need a bit of time to recover the next story wont be _quite _as energetic. Aramis still has some angst about the whole thing to work through so that should keep them occupied for a little bit.  
>  The story is almost planned out in my head so you probably wont have to wait for too long.__


End file.
